


Her or Her or Her

by druscilla



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Getting Back Together, Hiatus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/druscilla/pseuds/druscilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A frank conversation after a rushed decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her or Her or Her

Having sex was easy. It was almost an accident. They were just so used to a hug and a kiss and hands sliding under shirts that they could almost convince themselves they hadn't meant to. Or Patrick could almost convince himself. Pete didn't want any convincing. 

But the rest of it was hard. The rest of it was the scary part. Patrick had flown out to have a conversation (for a week) and it had immediately started with the sex, but now he was sleeping on the couch because he refused to share a bed with Pete unless he knew how it was going to end and he didn't trust himself to sleep down the hall where all those night sounds he knew too well (breathing, mattress creaking, footsteps) would be tempting him.

"This is pointless," Pete muttered darkly.

"The point's pretty sharp, actually."

Pete glared at him. "Well . . . 'night then." He stomped up the stairs and slammed the door and Patrick went to sleep frowning and thinking he knew all too well how this was going to play out. Sleeping on the couch had definitely been the way to go.

In the morning, Patrick woke last, like he usually did. The house was empty, but only for a few minutes before Pete arrived with coffee. He pushed the hot Starbucks cup into Patrick's hand without a word and then went upstairs to shower. When he came back down he was in shorts and a shirt and he sat next next to Patrick on the couch with his eyes on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He put his face in his hands and sighed heavily, raking them back through his hair. "This went too fast. I should have--"

"We went too fast," Patrick corrected him, voice just as quiet.

"I just thought you'd fall back in love with me fast, too," Pete whispered, his voice thick with tears he was obviously failing at fighting.

The younger boy came in close, reaching out to put a shaky hand on Pete's knee, bare under the shorts. "It's not about that. I never . . . I don't . . . Love's never been a problem, Pete."

They weren't used to explaining themselves to each other, always so much of it being understood. Pete could kiss Patrick and the younger could tell what he wanted. Patrick could look across the room and Pete could know whether they needed to leave _now_ or he could get away with five more minutes. But maybe that had been the problem, always assuming they understood and always taking it for granted they were right. Maybe they had been wrong.

"Just tell me what you want," Pete said, finally turning to look the other boy in the eyes, his chin still lowered, still scared, still hiding. "I'll give you anything."

Patrick shrugged, his eyes lowering now as he felt the tears filling them. It was too soon to start crying. If he started now, he'd never stop. "You?" He laughed and it broke, along with his reserve, falling forward to let his forehead rest against the other boy's. "That's all I wanted was you. Instead of me and you and her. Or her. Or her."

Pete brought his hands up to either side of Patrick's face, the pad of his thumbs running across the bones of his cheeks. "I don't want anyone but you."

There was a pause and Patrick's fear seemed to chill the room. Pete's fingers stopped moving. He took a shaky breath. "For how long?"

There was no hestitation. "Forever." Pete kissed him hard enough to bruise, hands moving back to thread in Patrick's hair, hold him there, not let him go. When he did, they were both gasping and Pete kissed him again. And again. And again. Until he was crying and then Patrick was crying and they were both holding each other on the couch, quiet except for the ocassional sharp intake of air.

"You said something about going slow," Patrick whispered and Pete laughed, kissed him on the forehead.

"I never really go slow."

"No," Patrick agreed, pressing his face into the older boy's neck and just breathing him in for a moment. They would never be this safe again, caught in the middle of a promise. And whether it was broken or not, it would never be as perfect and fresh as this. It would get blemished and scuffed from working on it every day. But Patrick wanted that. He wanted it to hurt for the right reasons this time.

"But I love you," Pete offered.

And Patrick took it.


End file.
